I mentioned to our 7-year-old daughter last week that the Obama's have two kids the same ages as our son and daughter.
"Malia and Sasha are 10 and 7 just like you and your brother," I said.
After a short pause, our daughter says, "Can we play with them some time? Where do they live?"
"Chicago," I said.
"Okay, we can stay in a hotel there and then go play."
"I'll see what I can do about setting that up," I said without having much idea how I would do that.
Any ideas?
I'm a middle aged, middle-class single mom living in the middle of the block, in the middle of Iowa, in the middle of the United States. Reflections on life, small-town living, and watching the kids and the garden grow.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
witnessing history
My dad tells the story of the night when the lunar module landed on the moon. He got me out of bed to watch Neil Armstrong take that first step. Just weeks from my fifth birthday, I don't remember that night. But I was a witness to history, nonetheless.
Thursday night, we allowed our 10-year-old son to stay up late on a school night to watch Sen. Barack Obama accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. He's old enough to remember this when he's an adult. But he's not old enough to grasp the enormity of the moment. He's not old enough to realize that the Civil Rights Act is only as old as I am.
And, maybe that too is a sign of progress.
Thursday night, we allowed our 10-year-old son to stay up late on a school night to watch Sen. Barack Obama accept the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. He's old enough to remember this when he's an adult. But he's not old enough to grasp the enormity of the moment. He's not old enough to realize that the Civil Rights Act is only as old as I am.
And, maybe that too is a sign of progress.
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